The noise of the disturbance in the library had already attracted the
attention of the Squire and his guests, who had just then reached the
door of the drawing-room. When Parker announced that Major Dawkins was
arrested for burglary, there was a general exclamation of incredulity;
but the mention of the handcuffs elicited a little scream from Miss
Euphemia and an exclamation of indignation from the Squire.
‘This is too absurd. It is some rascal’s practical joke; but it is
one that I shall punish, for it is a disgrace to me that such a thing
should be perpetrated on a guest of mine.—Friends, come with me.’ He
led the way to the library; and the ladies, unable to restrain their
curiosity, followed the gentlemen. Perhaps they also felt some timidity
at the idea of being left alone; for the numerous burglaries committed
of late during the dinner hour at country-houses were trying the nerves
of everybody who had property to lose.
‘What is the meaning of this outrage in my house?’ exclaimed the
Squire. ‘Release this gentleman at once. He is my guest.’
‘I told you so,’ ejaculated the Major, still too angry to realise fully
the humiliating as well as ludicrous position in which he stood.
The detective answered the Squire respectfully and firmly: ‘This is my
card, sir; my name is Kidman. I am a police officer, and was sent down
here to watch the movements of a man known to the police under various
aliases. This is the person I have been seeking. He is pretty well
disguised with his dyed hair’ (the Major shuddered: the thunderbolt had
fallen at last!); ‘but his height and figure correspond precisely with
this photograph.’ He displayed the portrait of a man whose figure was
certainly like the Major’s, and, allowing for the effect of disguise,
there might even be discovered some resemblance in the features.
‘I tell you this is preposterous,’ the Squire said impatiently. ‘I will
be responsible to you for this gentleman.’
‘Well, sir, of course the affair must be disagreeable to you, only you
are not the first gentleman he has taken in.’
‘I say, release him at once. If you refuse, it will be at your peril. I
am a justice of the peace.’
‘So much the better, sir; and in that case you will permit me to tell
you the circumstances under which I arrest this—gentleman. I have been
on the lookout for him; and from information received that an attack
was to be made upon your house, I came here this evening to watch. I
posted myself in the shrubbery; and not half an hour ago, whilst you
were at dinner, I saw him look from that window to spy if the coast was
clear’——
‘I was looking for you, Squire,’ interrupted the Major.
‘I couldn’t guess how he had got in without me seeing him, but that is
explained by his being a guest of yours. I knew he was at work, and so
stepped quietly in after him. I found him so busy at one of the drawers
of this table that I managed to slip these ornaments on his wrists
before he could turn round.’
‘At the drawers of the table!’ ejaculated several voices, whilst all
looked in amazed horror at the culprit.
‘Yes,’ continued Mr Kidman complacently, finding that he had at
last made an impression; ‘and this sort of thing’ (holding up the
jemmy) ‘is not exactly what you would expect to find in a gentleman’s
dressing-case. I found it here on the table, and the middle drawer has
been forced open with it.’
‘The drawer forced open?’ muttered the Squire doubtingly.
‘You will find it so, and done by an experienced hand too. Will you
oblige me by examining the contents of the drawer and letting me know
what has been abstracted?’
‘This is horrible!’ said the Major, becoming calmer as the situation
became more serious.
It was indeed most horrible to every one present. Miss Euphemia
afterwards declared to Mrs John that she felt ready to sink through the
floor, and fervently wished that she could have done so.
‘The drawer has certainly been rummaged by some one,’ the Squire said
gravely.
‘Anything valuable missing?’ asked the detective, notebook in hand.
‘Yes—a considerable sum of money in notes and gold.’
‘Ah, I daresay our friend will be able to give us an account of the
notes and gold,’ was the playful comment of Mr Kidman.
‘This indignity is insufferable,’ said the Major stiffly; ‘and I cannot
understand, Elliott, why you should hesitate for a moment to release
me from this degrading position. You know me; you know how easily my
identity can be established. You know nothing of this man beyond his
own assertion. How can you tell that he is not a confederate of the
thieves, and his present action a ruse to give them time to escape?’
‘That’s not bad, captain,’ rejoined the detective with an admiring
smile. ‘But these letters—which you will excuse me taking from your
pocket—will show that one part of my statement is correct.—Do they
belong to you, sir?’
He handed the three fatal letters to the Squire, who hastily glanced
at them, whilst his wife stood on one side of him and Mrs John on the
other.
‘Why, that is the letter which I received!’ observed Mrs Joseph with
acerbity.
‘And that is mine; and the other is the one which has upset poor dear
Nellie so much!’ cried Mrs John.
‘It was to ask you again to allow me to destroy those confounded
letters, that I came to seek you, Squire, thinking that I might find
you here alone after dinner,’ the Major explained. ‘I heard some one
moving about the room, and, concluding that it was you, knocked two or
three times. Getting no answer, I entered, but found nobody here. As
the window was open, it occurred to me that you might have stepped out
on the terrace, and I looked for you. Of course you were not there, but
it must have been then that this man saw me.’
‘No doubt,’ answered the Squire slowly; ‘but he found you at my drawer.’
‘My anxiety to prevent a scandal to the family tempted me to take back
my letters—for they are mine—and burn them without your leave. I knew
that you would pardon me when you heard the explanation which you will
have to-morrow.’
Whilst the Major spoke, the Squire was frowning.
‘According to your own statement, Major Dawkins, your conduct has not
been creditable to you as an honourable man.’
‘I acted for the best, as you would see if you would give me leave to
speak to you in private.’
They were interrupted and startled by the report of two pistol-shots in
the grounds. Presently a footman rushed in with the information that
they had caught a man who had jumped out of one of the windows, and he
had fired upon them.
‘I see the whole thing,’ exclaimed the Major excitedly. ‘It was the
thief who was in here when I knocked; and whilst you, sir, _you_,
have been insulting me and making a fool of yourself—if you _are_ a
detective—you have given him the opportunity to ransack the house!’
Mr Kidman looked puzzled, but he acted promptly. He removed the
handcuffs, saying humbly: ‘I beg pardon, sir; but mistakes will happen.
I must catch that man—he is a desperate card, and uses his revolver
freely.’ He darted out to the terrace and disappeared.
The Squire and Maynard immediately followed. John Elliott was too
timid, and the Major too indignant at the treatment to which he had
been subjected, to take any part in the pursuit. After pulling himself
and his ruffled garments together, he addressed his hostess, Mrs
Joseph: ‘I presume, madam, I may now retire?’
The lady bowed a little awkwardly, feeling some compunction for his
sufferings. She hoped that a good night’s rest would enable him to
laugh at this painful incident, if not to forget it.
‘An affair of this sort does not readily become a subject of mirth to
the victim. But thanks for your kind wishes.’
He was about to retire, when Squire Elliott and Maynard returned.
‘It’s all right, Major. They have got the scoundrel fast bound, and he
has hurt no one but himself. There are my notes and gold, which we have
just taken from his pocket.’
‘How did it all happen?’ was the eager exclamation of the ladies.
‘I offer you my cordial congratulations,’ added the Major drily.
‘It happened exactly as the Major surmised; and we have to thank
Nellie’s headache, or whatever has kept her upstairs, for the timely
discovery of the burglar. She was going into her dressing-room, and
on opening the door, saw a man busy with her jewel-case. She knew
what that meant—closed the door and locked it. She ran to the window
and screamed out “Thieves!” The fellow took the alarm, and having the
window open in readiness for such an emergency, he flung out a bundle
which he had prepared. Then he slipped over the ledge, and let himself
drop to the ground; but he had miscalculated the distance, and broke
his leg in the fall. Two of our men, who had heard Nellie scream, were
upon him before he could attempt to rise. He fired, but they had got
his arms up in the air; so no harm was done; and he is safe for ten or
fifteen years.’
‘And the bundle—what was in it?’ anxiously inquired the Squire’s wife.
‘A lot of trinkets and things, which are scattered all over the place,
as the bundle in falling struck the branch of a hawthorn and was
torn open. I have sent Parker to look after them; but we must go out
ourselves.’
The ladies, whose looks of deep concern indicated how much they were
interested in the search, eagerly proposed to accompany the gentlemen.
Hats and shawls were quickly procured, and the whole party went forth.
Nellie stole shyly down from her room and joined her friends—much to
the delight of Maynard, although he endeavoured to appear cold and
indifferent. She, too, wore a mask of indifference. But both were
conscious that it was a mask, and that each was at heart earnestly
wishing that the other would say something which would lead to an
explanation. Without words, however, they somehow knew that the
reconciliation would come in the morning.
The Major’s presence was taken as a matter of course; for, in the
excitement of the moment, his banishment was forgotten by every one
except himself. He silently took his place as the special attendant
of Miss Euphemia, who received his attentions as graciously as if the
incident of the morning had not occurred. He was peculiarly fortunate
in being the finder of most of her stolen valuables, which won him
additional favour. Nearly everything was found, and a further search
was to be made in the morning. So, everybody retired to rest that night
with feelings of thankfulness for having had such a singular escape
from heavy loss.
* * * * *
In the morning, there were general inquiries for the Major. His
misfortunes of the previous night had toned down the anger which had
been felt regarding him, and the idea now was that they had been
too hard upon the well-meaning little man. All—and especially the
Squire—would have been pleased to see him in his usual place at table.
But as he did not appear, the only inference that could be drawn was
that he felt too much hurt to make any advances.
They were rising from the table and preparing for the unpleasant
business of the day, when there was a sound of carriage-wheels,
followed by a loud ring at the hall-bell.
‘That’s Willis,’ said the Squire, moving to the window and looking
out, after casting a glance of satisfaction at his wife and at his
sister-in-law.
His assertion was immediately confirmed by the entrance of Parker to
announce the visitor, who, without ceremony, had closely followed the
butler.
After hurried greetings were over, Willis said abruptly: ‘I want to
get back to town to-night, and I have come down here in consequence
of a telegram from Dawkins, who tells me that you have all got into a
nonsensical squabble owing to his interference with the intention of
setting you right.’
‘I thoroughly agree with you, Willis—it is a nonsensical squabble, but
who the deuce is to blame for it?’ said the Squire with a good-natured
laugh.
‘Glad to hear you ask the question,’ rejoined Willis, who, being a
plain and practical person, came to the main point at once. ‘The first
thing you have got to understand is that Dawkins is not to blame; the
next thing you have got to understand is that I am the party you have
got to blow up. But before you begin with me, you had better take my
good-natured brother-in-law to task, and before you do that, I want to
have a few words with you, John Elliott.’
‘You had better speak out whatever you have to say here,’ muttered
Elliott of Arrowby with a painfully feeble assumption of haughtiness.
‘Would you like that, Sophy?’ said Willis, addressing his sister, Mrs
John.
‘I think I understand the whole position, Matt,’ she replied. ‘Indeed,
I think we all understand it now. The poor Major blundered about his
letters; we all got the wrong ones, and misinterpreted their meaning.
We need not go into the details, for, as you know, they would be
painful to me as well as to John. Take Joe away with you, and get him
to express to the Major the regret that we all feel for the annoyance
we have caused him.’
‘Come along,’ said the Squire promptly. ‘We’ll pacify him somehow.’ As
he was passing his wife, he whispered to her: ‘I hope you are satisfied
now, Kitty;’ and she gave an approving nod. ‘But I wish he had been
down with us to breakfast.’
The Squire and Matt Willis proceeded to the library; and there a very
few additional words satisfied the former that the unfortunate friend
of the family had been trying to discharge a disagreeable duty which he
thought himself bound to undertake.
The Major was hurt enough by the awkward position in which he was
placed; but that was not the reason why he kept to his chamber. He was
not thinking of breakfast or the misunderstanding with his friends.
Still, in his dressing-gown he was pacing the floor in a state of cruel
distress. His hair was tossed about wildly and—it was of a ghastly
gray-green colour! That wicked burglar had taken away the precious
Russian leather case—no doubt thinking it contained jewelry—and it had
not been amongst the articles found last night. Without it, the Major
could not perform his toilet. This was the cruellest blow of all to the
poor man. It was impossible for him to appear before any one in his
present guise; and he even avoided the mirrors, lest he should catch
sight of his own head. Hollis had been despatched to make diligent
search in every spot where the case might have fallen; and his master
was waiting in agony for the result. A knock at the door.—Ah, there he
is at last! No, it was only Parker to say that Mr Willis had arrived,
and was with the Squire in the library waiting for Major Dawkins.
‘Make my excuses, please, and say that I cannot go down yet, but will
be with them as soon as possible.’
A quarter of an hour elapsed, and another message came; then another
more urgent, and a fourth more urgent still. The Major wished he could
shave his head; it would be more presentable then than as it was now.
He was bemoaning the ill-luck or stupidity of Hollis, when the Squire
himself arrived at the door.
‘What is the matter, Dawkins? We are all waiting for you. Are you ill?’
‘Yes, yes; I am ill; but I will be with you as soon as I can.’
‘Then open the door and let me shake hands with you.’
‘Not just now, not just now. I’ll come and shake hands with you as much
as you like, in half an hour or so,’ was the agitated response.
‘Well, as you please; but I want to ask you to forget yesterday. Willis
has explained everything, and your letters are correctly understood
now. My wife is sorry that she did not take in the right meaning of
the one which fell into her hands; Nellie appreciates your desire to
forewarn her against any stupid gossip that fool Cousin John might
spread; Mrs John thinks it was kind of you to wish to put her husband
right, and he has got a lesson which he will not forget in a hurry. But
she regards the whole affair as a good joke. You see, all is well; so
come away at once and complete the party.’
‘I am delighted; but please do excuse me, Squire. I _can’t_ come at
once,’ groaned the Major, passing his hand shudderingly through the
besmirched hair.
‘Very well, then, as soon as you can; you will find us somewhere about
the lawn.’ And the Squire, wondering what the Major’s curious malady
could be, rejoined his friends.
At last Hollis did knock at the door, bringing the joyful tidings that
he had found the case—sticking between two branches of the hawthorn
which had wrecked the burglar’s bundle. He had been about to abandon
the search, when, happening to look up, he saw it where he never would
have thought of looking for it.
The Major dressed with more than usual care, gave Hollis orders to pack
up, as they were to leave that day; and then, holding himself as erect
as if on parade, he proceeded in the direction of the lawn with the
firm determination to bid his host and hostess good-bye. But on his way
he encountered Miss Euphemia, whose gold-rimmed _pince-nez_ glittered
with pleasure at sight of him. ‘I _am_ so delighted to see you, Major.
I—we were all afraid, that you were seriously ill.’
‘No; not seriously ill, but considerably bothered,’ he responded
uncomfortably.
‘Of course you must have been; but thank goodness it is all over now.
The Squire and all the others are most anxious to make amends to you
for the vexation you have endured so nobly. He wants you to stay, and
has sent me to persuade you not to say no.’
‘Stay!—It is impossible—quite impossible.’
‘Oh, but you really must not bear malice—they made a mistake, and
everybody does so sometimes.’ She was smiling coaxingly, and looked a
different being from the lady who had surveyed him through her glasses
so severely yesterday.
‘I respect the family as much as ever; but I cannot remain.’
‘Oh, do—to please me.’
He looked at her and fancied he saw a blush. ‘To please _you_, I would
stay for ever,’ he answered gallantly; ‘but’——
‘Then stay—for ever!’ she interrupted with emphasis.
He opened his eyes. Did he understand her? Could she be serious? Had
the time come for him to speak?
‘Do you mean that it would be a particular pleasure to you if I
remained—for _your_ sake?’
‘It would,’ she answered in a low voice.
‘Then I understand,’ he said, taking her hand, ‘_this_ is my
consolation for all the afflictions of yesterday?’ She did not say
no; and he, drawing her arm within his, continued: ‘I am a happy man,
although again a captive.’
The announcement of their engagement added much to the happiness which
everybody felt in the reconciliations effected that morning. There was
a merry twinkle in the Squire’s eyes. He was a cunning fellow when
prompted by his wife, and had guessed what would happen when he chose
Miss Euphemia as his ambassador to the Major. The only person who felt
in the least uncomfortable was John Elliott of Arrowby, who was now
confessedly the originator of all the mischief. The only reproach he
had to endure from his wife was the expression accompanied by a pitying
smile, ‘Poor John!’
There were festivities on a grand scale at Todhurst when Nellie and
Maynard were wedded; but the marriage of Euphemia Panton and Major
Dawkins was a very quiet affair—as the lady thought. She had only three
bridesmaids and about twenty other friends to witness the ceremony.
The Major was content to be supported by an old companion in arms and
Matthew Willis.
The happy couple disappeared for six months. On returning to England,
their first visit was to Todhurst. For a moment the Squire and his wife
found it difficult to recognise their old friends. The Major was now a
quiet elderly-looking gentleman with gray hair and moustache; and Mrs
Dawkins was a subdued-looking lady, whose hair suggested that she had
certainly arrived at years of discretion. They had both come to accept
with resignation the inevitable signs that time passes and old age
draws on; and they were happy. They had not been so in the days when
they vainly struggled to hide the progress of years. The Major could
never forget that morning of agony when the Russian leather case could
not be found. Probably his account of it, combined with the fact that
it was no longer possible to hide from each other their dabblings in
the fine arts, helped his wife to agree with him that it was best to
make no attempt to improve upon nature. The Major had given up all
his youthful ways, much to his own comfort; and he was firmly resolved
never again to play the part of the officious friend of the family.